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by misskatieleigh



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-24
Updated: 2008-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:44:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s pretty sure he would have said just about anything to the SGC doctors to get out and see sky again</p>
            </blockquote>





	home

**Author's Note:**

> this is old, moving my stuff from LJ

Thinking back, Cam probably would have been better off staying in the on-base infirmary than attempting the drive home. He just barely escaped as it was, and he’s pretty sure that it had more to do with the plaintive look he kept shooting at Lam than the results of his MRI. Still, head wound or not, he’s been underground enough for the past two weeks – two weeks past when the remnants of SG-1 (i.e. him and Jackson) were due back from a simple off world meet and greet. He really needs to stop thinking of _any_ mission as a cakewalk. More often than not it’s that kind of thinking gets him locked in an underground cell with Jackson and his own blood dripping into his eyes. He’s pretty sure he would have said just about anything to the SGC doctors to get out and see sky again.

It’s the throbbing in his head that keeps his car pointed east, toward clean sheets that aren’t washed with an army’s worth of dirty socks and uniforms covered in God knows what. His hands twitch at most intersections, ready to slip his tires around into a u-turn, head back in a direction that’s trouble, capital T and all the headaches that go along with that sort more than his aching brain can handle. Ten minutes later it doesn’t matter though, because trouble’s come calling on it’s own; fallen asleep on his couch with a replay of the Rockies game flickering blue light over her face.

If he weren’t half concussed he’d be ashamed at his failing stealth attempts, uncoordinated feet stumbling into the end table and his keys falling to the floor with a crash of metal on metal. Trouble – Laura – flinches at the sound, her hand groping at the top of the coffee table for a gun that isn’t there. She sits up, her breath catching when she sees that it’s him standing there. The side of her face is creased with the faint lines of the pillow she was sleeping on, her hair’s falling out of its messy braid and she’s wearing a t-shirt he’s had since basic training, the screen printing peeled off and fading until there’s not much more than the impression of letters across the chest.

He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Hey, baby. Didja come to say welcome home?”

He can’t help the way his voice cracks over the word home, not anymore than he can help the sudden urge to fall into her, like this is why he wanted to get out of the infirmary so badly. For the peace of his own house, his own bed – and for the smell of her on his sheets, for red-blonde hair tickling his nose and finding it’s way into his mouth, for drool on his pillow and an empty coffee pot in the sink. For soft skin and a smile that makes his head stop aching, even with the sob that accompanies it, two weeks worth of cooling heels wrapped up in his name on her tongue.

This is a bad idea, not his worst but potentially career ending. Cam remembers how hard he fought to get here, to lead SG-1 and even just to climb out of bed under his own steam. He remembers stumbling home to an empty house, time after time, to cold sheets under his cheek and an answering machine empty save his own mother’s voice. He remembers his dad, boyhood pride and honor tinged with his mother’s tears and metal traded for bone – the hard edge of sacrifice softened by the cushion of family.

More than anything, he thinks, he wants that. He wants love and forgiveness and someone to catch him when he’s broken. He wants her, let the consequences fall where they may. 


End file.
